


Harrowing

by Schattenriss



Series: The Contours of Shadows [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Demon, Harrowing, M/M, Mages, Ostwick Circle, Tevinter, pre-Inquisition/post-Trespasser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 18:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss
Summary: Dorian knew that his lover and fellow mage, former Inquisitor Kai Trevelyan, had been in the Ostwick Circle for many years before he was able to leave. He's also heard stories of the southern Circles' barbaric tradition of Harrowing, but never heard what it was like for Kai until now...





	Harrowing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [OnyxDrake9 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxDrake9/pseuds/OnyxDrake9) for the beta, and [Nightscrawl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightscrawl/pseuds/Nightscrawl) for asking about Kai's harrowing!

“Among apprentices of the Circle, nothing is regarded with more fear than the Harrowing. Little is known about this rite of passage, and that alone would be cause for dread. But it is well understood that only those apprentices who pass this trial are ever seen again.”

_—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi_

[ ](https://imgur.com/zZ4ZgWZ)

If you were to believe all the stories, you'd swear the life of a magister in Minrathous is an endless swirl of politics, parties, and plotting (or if you listen to the Southern stories — blood magic, abusing slaves and cackling evilly). Admittedly, politics, parties and plotting were always going on somewhere in the city, but we weren't required to participate in every bit of it. Dorian did have a job to do, and I had my own responsibilities. We were perfectly content to spend most nights at home together. I know that does nothing to further the reputation of decadence and magical excess that magisters have, but it wasn’t always as boring as it sounds.

It was late spring near the end of the week. Dorian had finished work for the night, dinner was done and we had no plans so, exciting and dynamic couple that we were, we’d set up camp in the library. Not the Minrathous Library, though that massive edifice was one I could happily spend weeks exploring, but the one in the house. Dorian’s family had filled it with all manner of exotic and interesting tomes over the years, and both of us felt we’d neglected doing much in the way of reading lately.

We’d been lounging on a single sofa together for a few hours, reading, when Dorian set down his book and stretched, giving a satisfied little groan as he did.

I set down my book too. “Had enough?”

“Well, of this epic adventure anyway,” he replied. “It started out with a bang, but it sags in the middle like an indolent Orlesian noble.”

“I don’t mind talking for a while if you like. Anything interesting happen today?”

“Aside from the Magisterium making a concerted effort to bury me in paperwork? Drusus Veturius nominated me to head up a committee on amending Nevarran trade protocols.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“No, he did it out of spite. He’s got a bee in his bonnet about my being a Necromancer — tries to volunteer me for anything having to do with Nevarra.”

“Ah. Figures his name is Drusus.” We’d fought a monster with that name back in Qarinus the previous summer.

“There was one thing…” He paused to fiddle with the tips of his moustache. “Amatus, may I ask you something?”

I raised both eyebrows slightly. “The way you're asking makes me wonder if I should say no. What is it?”

He smiled. “Nothing terrible, I don't think. It's just something you may not want to answer.”

“I've never had a social disease, if that's what you're wondering.”

That made him chuckle. “I never thought that, though I suppose one mustn't presume. No, while I was at lunch today, the subject of your southern Harrowings came up. Everyone here agrees it sounds cruel and barbaric — like nearly everything else in your Circles — and you've never talked about yours, though I presume you endured one…”

“So you want to know what it was like?”

“Only if you don't mind talking about it.” He knows how I feel about my time in Ostwick's Circle. 

I thought about it for a few moments while Dorian waited patiently. “I suppose it's been long enough. The Circles are never coming back in that form again, so it's all just a rather shite time in my life.”

“You don't have to go into painful detail.” He was trying so hard to be considerate, I would have been swayed to tell him even if it had been painful.

“I don't mind, love. It was over twenty years ago, and I was actually rather pleased with myself.”

He gave me a look of affected shock. “Are you telling me something associated with your time in the Circle wasn’t horrific?”

“Much as I hate to admit such a thing, for me it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as what we’d imagined. That isn’t to say it wasn’t a cruel and barbaric practice, but I did manage to survive it. Where to start…” I settled into a more comfortable position and took a swallow of my drink before starting. 

“Although I came into my magic relatively late, I was considered something of a prodigy…”

**_***_ **

Mage Circles. They were scattered throughout Thedas. In Tevinter they were places of learning, and it was considered quite a coup to be accepted into some of the more prestigious ones. In the south, mages got their training in Circles too, but the nature of the Circles was radically different.

Unlike some I'd heard of, the buildings that housed Ostwick's Circle weren't circular. The closest thing it had to a mage tower was the four-story main building where all the classrooms and communal spaces were, including the all-important basement workshops and training areas. Adjacent to that were two dormitories, the smaller one housing apprentices while the larger was for full mages who'd passed their Harrowing. The top floor of the main building held suites for the First Enchanter and his deputies. A fourth building set away from the others and close to the gated entrance housed the Templars. Everything was built of grey stone, which enhanced that cheery _you are in prison_ feeling that permeated the place. The grounds were spacious enough to afford a little exercise if you felt like walking from one end to the other, but behind the landscaping that masked them, every direction ended in a high wall.

Those walls weren't just decorative. They were walls that were serious about their business, which was to keep us far away from _real_ people. They were high — over twice the height of a tall man. They were sheer, machined then polished and then magicked to a high gloss. You couldn't carve or spellcast a handhold into that surface. There were sharp spikes around the top of them, hidden in the midst of pretty, wrought iron curlicues so passers-by on the outside would find them attractive. We were told all that security was to protect us. Bollocks.

At thirteen I'd found myself dragged out of my perfectly comfortable life and thrown into that place for the terrible crime of being magically gifted. I was angry and miserable, and that really didn't change much over the years I was there, except perhaps in intensity and how I dealt with it. It turned out I was not only bright and naturally talented at magic, but on the scary end of powerful. Since I hated everything about the place except the magical training, I'd thrown every bit of my energy and concentration into that. As a result, I'd progressed rapidly, and at seventeen was already able to do spellcasting as well as grasp and apply magical theory that even some of the circle's seasoned senior enchanters weren't capable of handling. That probably sounds like I'm bragging, but I'm just stating facts. I'm damn good at both magic and academics.

My talent and dedication wouldn't be rewarded once I'd learned how to master my craft — the Chantry decreed all mages get a life sentence of imprisonment. Apparently, we were too dangerous and unstable to be trusted on our own recognizance. We were told that repeatedly, and the utter horror and contempt in which we were held was emphatically reinforced by the ubiquitous Templars, who were stationed everywhere in the complex for the sole purpose of watching us. The official reason was any of us could fall prey to possession by demons at any moment, and the Templars had the training to handle that. Maybe it had started out that way, but under the Chantry’s aegis, they’d added to the list of offenses the Templars watched for. Should any mage get too far out of line — break a rule, show too much emotion, show too much resistance — they were there to deal with us. That could mean anything from blocking our magic (their main qualification for the job) to ordering us dead or worse — Tranquil. If they chose that route, you were cut off from your magic and as a jolly little bonus you were also cut off from your personality and emotions and your essential _self_. You could still perform services for the Circle in that state, but _you_ would be essentially gone forever. Most of us agreed we’d prefer death.

It was early fall, just about a month and a half before I was to turn eighteen, not that that was any particular waymark in the Circle. If I lived that long, I was expected to still be there in another eighty years. That thought preyed on me. I was on the rooftop of the apprentices’ dormitory, where someone had made a little garden area complete with benches and pathways and the illusion of a small waterfall and stream. The entire perimeter of the roof had been permanently spelled with barriers so you couldn't commit suicide by jumping off; they thought of everything. 

I was with my friend Tasha and another boy named Aric. Tasha was seven months younger than me, but had been in the Circle years longer. She was tall, with sandy blond hair, grey eyes and a boyish face that didn't make her look like a boy. Tasha was my best (and at times only) friend, managing the sometimes unenviable task of putting up with my moods with a steady good humour and practicality that kept me from tipping into the deep end most of the time. Aric was just under a year older than me. He was short and a little stocky, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He sailed through life appearing to be slightly amused by everything, and had the ability to tell the most creatively outrageous stories with such earnest conviction, he'd have most of his listeners believing they were true despite their utter impossibility. We were ignoring the Templar who had followed us up and stationed himself where he could watch. At least he'd parked himself far enough away that chances were he couldn't hear us. 

Tasha was twirling a piece of hair around her finger and staring at me speculatively.

I said, “What's that look for? Do I have food stuck in my teeth or something?”

She gave a guileless blink. “What look?”

“Tasha…” I said warningly.

“Oh, it wasn't anything, really. I was just thinking,” she said with a little smile. 

“I'm still only interested in guys.” I gave her a smirk.

“Honestly, Kai. Not everything's about sex, you know.”

“It isn't?” Aric said in tones of shock.

“You stop too,” Tasha commanded. “I was just thinking, I bet they take you to your Harrowing soon.”

“He's awfully young for that, Tash,” Aric said.

“It's not age they count, it's talent and skill,” she countered. “Kai's got more than enough of both.”

“For what good it does,” I said sourly.

“It gets you out of the dorms,” Aric pointed out. He was still years away from his own Harrowing from what I'd heard. It wasn't so much his talent, which was adequate, but the fact that he was rather lazy, preferring to socialize rather than study magic or much of anything else. We'd been kind of fooling around with one another when we could slip away from the view of the Templars for a few minutes. Not that we felt anything beyond mild friendship, but we were both willing (in other words: randy) and found each other attractive enough.

“There's few enough people here, you should be able to get your own room,” Tasha said. The apprentices and children all had to share a few big rooms. Depending on how many new kids were brought in any given year, it could get a little crowded. No matter what, you certainly got no privacy.

“There is that,” I agreed. It would make things a little more bearable.

“You might even make senior enchanter before you're twenty-five,” Aric said with enthusiasm.

“Oh goody. Then I could use the locked privy and the upstairs cafeteria.” 

“Maker, Kai,” Tasha said, rolling her eyes.

“What? I'm supposed to get excited? Aside from a better room, there's no fucking bonus to being a senior enchanter. All it usually means is they expect you to teach. That's never been something I aspired to.”

“Don't worry, everyone already knows you hate everything,” Aric said. “Do you guys think they'll have that fruit salad tonight or have they stopped serving it?”

“I think those berries from Ferelden are out of season now,” Tasha said.

While the two of them discussed what fruits and vegetables were in season when, I thought about Harrowing. It was the rite of passage every mage had to go through. They refused to tell us what that entailed, just that when we were ready, it would happen. If you passed, you became a full mage, you moved to the big building and you were no longer in (much) danger of being made Tranquil. If you didn't pass…well, no one ever saw that person again. Opinion was split on whether they killed you or you just lost your mind and had to be locked up in some more terrible place. I wasn't too worried about passing. No matter what they threw at me, I was confident I was more than skilled enough to handle the challenge.

_=#=_

A few days passed that were just like the ones before them. I wasn't just taking classes in magic — we also were taught ethics (a big deal for us mages), history, mathematics, language, writing, logic, biology and alchemy — so my day was occupied with those. I enjoyed the language, writing and history; math and logic were annoying and I found them dull, but knew they had useful applications; much of ethics was self-evident and boiled down to “don't be an asshole”; biology was all related to how it worked with spellcasting and seemed like there was a lot they didn't really know, and alchemy bored me silly. The senior enchanters were already talking about putting me in advanced magical training and I was all for that, since the level most of my peers were at was no challenge. I would have been happier spending extra time on combat magic, since it was both fun and one of the few ways to get real exercise in the Circle.

I'd finished for the day and was in that twilight period between courses and the evening meal. I was considering either going down to the basement to see if there was anyone who felt like sparring or maybe hunting down Aric with the idea of finding someplace that might manage to be private for fifteen minutes.

I was walking down the corridor leading to the basement stairs when two senior mages I'd never really had much contact with approached and flanked me. A templar fell in behind us, and that made me edgy.

“This way, Trevelyan,” said the older mage. She was around forty, with black hair she wore in an intricate series of braids. I thought her name was Estelle, but wasn't sure.

“What's going on?” I asked as they hustled me upstairs rather than down.

“Shhh,” admonished the younger mage. “All will be told in time.” He was a slightly pudgy brunet man in his mid-twenties named Padraic. He’d only left the apprentice dorms a few years before. When he was an apprentice, he’d been interested in mind magic even though we weren’t supposed to fuck with that, paralysis spells (which the powers that be seemed fine with), and chatting up girls who weren’t interested in him.

We went down a short hallway I'd rarely investigated to a door that had always been locked. This time it wasn't. The medium-sized room we entered was comfortably if oddly appointed. The floor was polished hardwood with plush charcoal coloured rugs at either end. There were comfortably upholstered upright chairs on the rugs. The walls had tapestries depicting forest scenes. There were two large windows letting in light robbed of any harshness by pale blue blinds. Under the windows was a sideboard of rich, reddish wood. The focal point of the room was set smack in the centre — a day bed covered in grey-blue upholstery that looked more practical than posh. Padraic gestured at it, saying, “Have a seat.”

As I sat, they moved to stand at either end of the day bed. The Templar took a station somewhere behind me. Estelle closed the door and we all waited in silence. If it weren’t for the Templar, I would have been bored; as it was, I was simultaneously bored and anxious. Finally, the door opened and the first person to walk through was our First Enchanter. He was a big man (not fat, just big) with dark brown hair and eyes and a lush goatee that was a shade darker than his hair. He was wearing a deep blue robe thickly embroidered with patterns of gold, though underneath I saw flashes of a more practical pair of brown trousers and brown leather boots. His name was Oliver Caudill, not that I would have dared call him that. He was young to have reached the position of First Enchanter — no more than thirty-five, if that. Following him were two Senior Enchanters, one of whom was Clemens Aigner, my Ethics instructor. The other I knew more by reputation — Alessandra Coombs didn't teach, but spent all her time in theoretical magic. Both of them were older than the First Enchanter.

Following them were four more Templars, who took up stations at each corner of the day bed as my original escorts moved away to take seats on the far side of the room. _They_ made me nervous, surrounding me as they were.

The First Enchanter took the biggest, most comfortable chair and regarded me, his mien serious but not unkind. “Good afternoon, Apprentice Trevelyan. I'm sure you're wondering what this is all about.”

“I think I've either done something really wrong or…is this my Harrowing?” I asked cautiously.

He smiled. “It is indeed. Surprised?”

I decided to throw caution to the winds and tell the truth. “Not entirely. I know I'm young, but honestly, I've gone as far as I can as an apprentice. I figured it had to happen pretty soon.”

He nodded solemnly. “You're right, but understand, son — the Harrowing isn't just about magical ability. If anything, your power is part of what made it necessary even though you are rather young. You see, the Harrowing is designed to ensure that you're able to handle not just your magic, but yourself. The amount of power you have at your disposal makes you a very attractive target to a great many entities, you know.”

“So I’ve been told. Repeatedly.”

The First Enchanter smiled faintly, though some of the Templars looked irked. “That repetition does have a purpose.”

“I know: To keep it in our empty young heads.” I chanced a sardonic smile back. “So…what am I supposed to do?”

“There’s a bit of ritual that goes along with this, but we’ve found it works best if you lie back and get comfortable.”

I glanced at all the Templars pointedly. “Comfortable?”

“As comfortable as you can. You’re going to be taking a trip into the Fade.”

The head Templar, Knight-Commander Emery, made a nearly inaudible sniff of disapproval. She was a humourless woman who had to be close to retirement. 

I was rather confused and probably looked it. “The Fade? But—” I stopped at the First Enchanter’s warning look. 

“I know it’s unsettling, apprentice. This is one of the reasons the Harrowing is kept secret. The test will not be true if you’ve had time to prepare.”

I nodded, keeping my mouth shut. Maybe the Templars weren’t aware that when mages dream, we know we go to the Fade? I thought a little more, and theorized maybe it was a deeper level of the Fade or something. I was sure he would’ve explained it better if not for the Templars. 

The First Enchanter gestured towards Emery, saying, “Knight-Commander?”

With a brusque nod to him, she moved to stand in front of me. Looking at but not really seeing me, she started speaking. “Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him. Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin. Your magic is a gift, but it's also a curse, for demons of the dream realm — the Fade — are drawn to you and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.”

Her whole speech was delivered in the rushed, dry cadences of one trying to get through something as quickly as possible, which kind of detracted from the dramatic impact I was sure the original writer had imagined. The woman was definitely not made for the theatre.

The First Enchanter intoned, “This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will.” He at least made it sound important and a little scary.

I knew about Fade demons, of course. They’d been teaching us for years to go into our dreams with the awareness that we _were_ dreaming and could affect what was happening just in case we encountered a demon. It appeared I was about to do that. 

The Templar took back over. “Know this, apprentice: If you fail, we Templars will perform our duty. You will die.” Naturally she managed to put appropriate dramatic emphasis on those lines. _Probably,_ I thought, _because she’d enjoy that._

So our worst speculations were true. You weren’t sent away somewhere if you failed your Harrowing; they just fucking killed you on the spot. I couldn’t imagine how one managed to fail, and was confident I wouldn’t, but the thought still made me feel sick. How would I even know if I was failing? Was I supposed to kill the demon and bring back its head? Talk it into killing itself? Come back with arcane information? Or I could keep it simple and assume I was supposed to come back not possessed ( _dispossessed?_ ). Was there a time limit? Did they somehow brief the demon, or did they just lure a random one in and it was your bad luck if you got a big, dumb and violent sort? It didn’t appear I was going to be allowed to ask any of those perfectly logical questions, and that pissed me off. So did the fact that the bastards had managed to make me nervous, as I remembered a few who had gone to their Harrowings and never been seen again.

I gave no indication of the impact those words were having — I wouldn’t give the damn Templars the satisfaction — but I added another layer to my hatred of the Circle and everything it stood for.

The First Enchanter nodded to someone, and a moment later Padraic approached me carrying a small, lacquered box. He handed it to me, saying quietly, “Open it carefully.”

I opened it. Inside was a single, stoppered vial of blue liquid. I pulled it out and held it up to the light. It may have been my imagination, but I could swear I felt a subtle magical vibration and it appeared to glow slightly. I recognized it even though apprentices were never allowed to use any.

“This is lyrium — the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade,” the First Enchanter said. “Get yourself situated, then drink the entire vial. Remember this is a test of your will and common sense and behave accordingly. We look forward to seeing you once you’ve succeeded.”

I wondered if the Templars were looking forward to it or if they were hoping they’d get to kill a mage. I settled myself on the day bed as best I could and, propped on one elbow, downed the vial of lyrium. It tasted…coppery and magic, with a bitter bite that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. I lay back, feeling an oddly euphoric rush I couldn’t compare to anything I’d felt before, wondering how long—

_=#=_

—I was in the Fade. It wasn’t the Fade I was used to seeing in dreams, where things looked much as they did in the real world. The landscape was weird and…unformed. Amidst dramatic outcroppings of rock, some of which were made into weird carvings while others looked half melted, there were familiar objects in unfamiliar places, half-formed pieces of everything from road markers to household furniture. Some were melded into the topography, others placed randomly as if I was backstage at a massive, surreal theatre. The air smelled strange — spicy and metallic with a sweet, rank undertone, if that makes any sense — and it was tinted green. I wondered if I was supposed to wait there for the demon or go looking for it.

When a minute or two passed with no demon, I decided I may as well explore. Eventually it would find me. I set out on the path directly in front of me, which went at a slightly downhill angle, curving around outcroppings of shiny green-grey rock. There were interesting things that appeared in odd places — a lone lamppost shining white light, a battalion of lead soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms arrayed on a table-like outcropping of petrified wood, a writing desk shaped like a raven. Once or twice I thought I saw something moving out the corner of my eye, but I ignored it. Whatever it was would either show itself or it was just a trick of the mind the Fade made real. The First Enchanter said I’d be armed only with my will, but as this was the Fade, where dreams were both real and malleable, I wondered if I could conjure something a little more substantial.

I concentrated my considerable will on the idea as I walked, still watching for the demon. So far, I might as well be the only living thing in that realm. The path curved sharply around an outcropping of rock that had been carved with the visage of a man I didn’t recognize. A dead god, perhaps? The idea appealed to me. As I reached the other side of the outcropping, I smiled. To one side of the path was a large clearing. The only thing in the clearing was a pile of wood right in the centre. I approached it and allowed myself a moment of satisfaction — each piece was a smooth, straight length of ironwood about two feet long and just over an inch in diameter. I picked one up and saw one end was textured, making it easier to grip. I gave it a few experimental swings and decided it could do some damage if it connected with anything. It wasn’t a staff and probably wouldn’t be any use as a magic focus, but I still felt better for having it. I was confident of my magical ability, but not of how effective it might be in this level of the Fade.

I still had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I returned to the path and kept walking. The rock outcroppings were dwindling. To either side of me were now fields of stubbly red grass. They were filled with plants ranging in height from perhaps six inches to three feet. Each plant bisected into two stalks at the top, and hanging from each of those was a homunculus. The smallest were waxy whitish-green, their features still unformed. The ones hanging from the largest plants were reddish ochre. They fidgeted restlessly at the ends of the stems that attached the tops of their heads to their parent plant, and watched me pass with baleful amber eyes. I was sure those weren’t demons, but imagined I might have to use my club on them if they managed to detach themselves.

Something flew through the air that didn’t look like a bird and screamed with the voice of a woman. I readied combat spells in my mind and gripped my club a little more tightly. It again crossed my mind that there might be a time limit on the Harrowing back in the real world. I wondered if they’d kill me if I didn’t wake back up soon enough. Of course, I had no idea if time ran the same here, so concluded I may as well not worry about it.

The homunculus plants were gone now and the grass was higher. Something I couldn’t see slithered through it with the sound of wind chimes. Far in the distance a statue of another dead god looked over the land. If dimensions in the realm were true at all, it had to be several hundred feet high. To my left I heard several voices in conversation and stopped to listen. There seemed to be two distinct conversations occurring. Neither one made much sense. One speaker sounded exasperated, the other like something dead that had crawled back up into the world.

“He was dueling _again_. The Circle said they want him gone by next week. This is the third one!”

_“I am grown phthisical from this cursed river air. You must excuse my speech.”_

“No, I will not keep him home for a time. He’s got to learn to get on with his peers despite being more talented than the majority of them.”

_“I suppose you are come from my father to see what ails me, and I hope you will say nothing to alarm him.”_

“Venhedis, I don’t know! Let’s just keep heading down the coast. Neromenian’s Circle isn’t as stellar, but Decimus Heruns is there. He’s got a good grasp of Necromancy as well as the usual subjects the boy should be _—”_

_“You may as well know I have a way of learning old matter from things surer than books, and I’ll leave you to judge—”_

“—he gets into trouble there, we’ll send him to Vyrantium! He’s got to learn that there are expectations he must adhere to.”

_“—had all this when those witless Peeping Toms came and murdered him. I now have it again, or am coming very imperfectly to have a part of it.”_

“No. The subject is closed. He’s my son and I know what’s best for him. Why don’t you return to your solar? I’m sure there’s a bottle there with your name on it.”

 _“—DOUVEMA ENITEMAUS!”_   

With a _floomph_ ing sound, a gust of displaced air blew past me. The creature (demon) responsible for the _floomph_ gave me a bright, unsettlingly toothy grin. “Hello! I’m late, aren’t I? Are you the mage I’m supposed to meet? You must be; you look very young to have made it this far into the Fade. Of course, if you’re not the mage they called me here for, you’ll do just as well. You look very…tasty.” He made a show of licking his lips in a manner somewhere between sultry and anticipatory.

At least, I assumed the demon was a ‘he’. It certainly _looked_ male, and though its skin was purplish and it had horns, I had to admit I found it damned attractive. His pale, icy blue eyes were large like elves’, the brows dark and well-defined. His nose was strong and straight, his lips finely curved. His hair was long and white in contrast to those dramatically dark brows. He was a little taller than me, his build was athletic without being bulky, like a dancer’s. He was wearing an abbreviated loincloth that left little to the imagination. I had no idea what to say to him, settled on, “You were expecting me?” as if I’d just arrived at a dinner party.

“I was summoned to this place and told a young mage would make it worth my while. Will you?”

“Guess it depends what your while’s worth,” I said.

“And I would say that’s negotiable depending on what you’re offering,” he countered. “Were you walking somewhere? We can keep walking. Nice stick, by the way.”

“Thanks. I conjured it myself. I think.” We started walking, though I had no idea where or why other than it was something to do. I know I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. Wary, yes — he was a demon, after all — but I mostly found him intriguing, and not just because of his looks. He was something new and different and, yes, dangerous enough to add a little extra excitement to the mix. I mentally lined up some defensive and offensive spells just in case, but as long as he remained friendly I saw no reason to start hostilities. “So who said I’m offering anything?”

“The ones who called me here. I didn’t come here for nothing, you know.”

“They don’t speak for me,” I snapped.

“Do I detect some discontent?” He sounded amused, which pissed me off a little.

“It’s nothing that concerns you.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, surprising me. “But it could be I can help.”

I gave him a suspicious, sideways look. “You’re a demon.”

He snorted delicately. “Your people’s designation, not mine. Why am I a demon? Because I don’t look like you? I can. Because I don’t eat hearty platefuls of meat and potatoes? Or perhaps because I can do things that make you mortals uncomfortable?”

“You possess people and turn them into abominations.”

“Really? Says who?”

I thought for a moment. “Well…everyone.”

“And you always believe what ‘everyone’ says?” He looked at me with amusement.

“Of course not. Half the time they’re just parroting whatever the Chantry says.”

He chuckled. “Ah, yes, the Chantry. They see no difference between spirits and the negative entities you call demons.”

“But you _are_ a demon.” I was becoming unsure what that even meant. They hadn’t mentioned anything about them being good conversationalists.

He shrugged. “Semantics. What I can do scares your kind, so demon I am.”

I knew that was a leading statement and I shouldn’t allow myself to be led, but I was curious and rather liked the idea of doing something the damned Templars would have fits over. I raised an eyebrow at him (I admit I spent some time practicing in the mirror the year before, since I’ve got good brows for that move). “Oh? And what can you do?”

He gave me a slow smile back. “Why, whatever you desire.” He practically purred the words, and I felt a faint stirring of interest from parts that I did not want getting interested.

“So you’re a desire demon.” I tried to keep my tone clinical.

“Should I deny it? Is there something wrong with trading desire for sensation?”

“What does _that_ mean?”

He stopped and turned to face me. “You mean they don’t even tell you what we do?”

“Well…I mean. Yes. Kind of.” Now I felt stupid, which I didn’t like one bit.

“Kind of?” I was not imagining his amusement.

“They say your kind’ll promise whatever we want. You’ll tempt us until you can, you know, take over. I know it sounds stupid, but they never went into specifics.” I could feel the blood rushing to my face. With my fair skin, it was obvious I was getting embarrassed…which embarrassed me even more.

The demon chuckled. “They likely never went into specifics because they have no idea. After all, they refuse to talk to us. Shall I show you? Just a taste? I promise I won’t try to possess you.”

I glanced up at him and found myself annoyingly captivated. Somehow, he’d managed to make himself better looking. Younger and more vibrant or something. All I know is my stomach did a little flip as my nerves reported he was even more attractive than I’d first thought, and my face wasn’t the only spot blood was rushing to. To distract both myself and him, I adopted an insouciant pose, giving him my best cynical smirk. “I was told not to trust the promises of demons.”

“Sound advice,” he said placidly. “You should at least allow me to present my side to you.”

I took a few steps away and crossed my arms over my chest. “Go ahead. Impress me.”

He smirked right back at me. “I love a challenge.”

The demon strolled forward and as he did, everything _changed_ around us. The weird, green-tinted landscape was replaced by a white sand beach sloping gently down to a body of cerulean water. I was now standing on the open porch of a lushly appointed cabana. Sliding doors behind me were open to show a room with thick, soft carpets, a low divan and two chairs to one side, the other dominated by a large, luxurious bed. The area above the beach on which the cabana was situated was covered with short, thick green grass. Bordering the entire oasis was a line of tall trees with large, broad leaves at the top; I couldn’t remember what they were called. The sky was brilliant blue and cloudless. Calls of sea birds sounded in the distance, and a soft, warm breeze confirmed the strange Fade smell had been replaced by the scent of the ocean and green, growing things. A grey cat was sleeping on one corner of the porch.

He turned back to me and gestured expansively. “Well?”

“I’m impressed,” I admitted. “Is this a real place somewhere?”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” It’s not like they were going to let us out to see the real thing.

He said grandly, “I could give you this every day, or whatever other scene you might wish set. You like crowds and excitement, I can give you that too. We could attend musical performances, or the best comic farces, or death matches staged by a race of people forgotten even by your ancient elves.” 

I momentarily forgot to be cautious or aroused with that last remark. “You mean the Dalish?”

He snorted. “Please. I said your _ancient_ elves. You know, back when they ruled the world.”

“You were around then?”

He joined me on the porch, leaning casually against a support beam. “Me? No. Even for spirits that was a long time ago. But there was a particularly strong memory of them that got pulled into the Fade when the Veil was created. It may have come from one of their magical manuscripts. Anyway, they’ve thrived in their little section of the Fade ever since. Interesting people, though very set in their ways.”

“How are they still around if they have regular death matches?”

“Obviously they don’t _stay_ dead,” the demon replied.

“Obviously,” I repeated, shaking my head. I wondered if the fact that I was enjoying this conversation meant I was failing so far. “If you can show me all that, why are we on a private beach?”

“I just thought, given your circumstances, you might prefer privacy.”

Ah, yes. My _circumstances._ I scowled. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder. This is lovely, but it’s all fake. It’s nothing more than a scarily realistic dream. I’m still stuck in the fucking Circle, so what good does this do me?”

“Respite,” he replied immediately. He moved in close again, those big, beautiful, icy blue eyes meeting mine earnestly. My stomach did another one of those little flips. His breath smelled of mint. “A chance to get away from everyone and every _thing_ you’re constantly surrounded by. I know it’s the Fade, but that means unlike the real world, you can control your environment. I would, of course, be your guide and companion with whom you could indulge your every whim.”

That snapped my attention away from his many physical virtues. He was promising too much of himself. Four years in the Circle had convinced me the world was an ugly place and the majority of people did not have your best interests at heart, even pretty ones. I supposed I should add that pretty ones who also happened to be demons should be taken with an extra grain of salt.

“But nothing would really change,” I insisted. “And you’re not going to do all that for nothing. What do you get out of it if I believe you’re not going to possess me?”

He came in close and all but purred in my ear. “Sensation. The intensity of living your mortal life as I share it with you. We don’t get that in the Fade.”

“What do you mean _share_ it? I never said I wanted to share anything. I’ve already had enough of my life stolen from me.” I glared at him, using my anger to stave off the attraction that was undeniably there.

“Only enough to give you the experience you desire,” he said, circling me, running one hand lightly down my back. “No possession necessary and anything taken is merely energy that you naturally replace in short order.”

He stopped in front of me, a playful smile on his lips, and he was dangerous and exotic and sensual in a way that poor Aric could never hope to be. He even smelled good, and that smile was enough to make me want to ignore every warning I’d been given, because I was sure he could show me things that I hadn’t even thought of yet.

He blinked once, slowly, and my shirt was gone. I could feel the warm breezes of that imaginary, tropical place playing over my bare skin, and then he was touching me, running his hands up and down my torso, nothing more, but they were warm and strong and then he raked those claws along my sides with just a little pressure and that was making me feel like I was going to go off right in my trousers and—

I backed up in horror.

“What’s wrong? I told you, I won’t possess you,” the demon protested.

“We’re in the Fade,” I said, still breathing a little heavily.

“Yes, you know that. What of it?” 

“So _I’m_ here, but I’m _not_ here. I mean, this whole time my body’s back in that room being watched for signs of possession.”

“And you’re _not_ being possessed,” he said testily.

“That’s not the point. The _point_ is the wankers are _watching_ me.” I thought hard and my shirt was back on me.

“What are you doing? Whatever’s wrong I can fix it,” the demon said.

I glared at him because I couldn’t glare at the ones I was mad at. “No you can’t. Don’t you see? If we keep going every single _one_ of those bastards is going to be watching me come in my trousers! I’m sure they’ve already gotten a bloody eyeful.”

“Why do you care what they—”

I made a dismissive gesture at him. “Stop. There’s nothing you can say. Just…make this all go away and go. It’s fucking ruined just like everything else.” Every bit of my anger and depression over being locked in the Circle came roaring back. I just wanted to be alone. “How do I get out of here?”

He studied me for a moment then said, “Just use your will. Will is material here. It’s power. I give you that freely. If you ever change your mind…”

I sighed. “I’ll look for you. Thanks.”

“Will can be power in your world too, you know.” He was still giving me that curious, assessing look. I didn’t know why and I didn’t completely care at that moment.

“As long as I’m locked up in that place all the will in the fucking world doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. This is just a fucking tease. Tell all your demon friends not to bother. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Thanks for an interesting Harrowing.” I turned away from him and the cabana and grass and tall trees disappeared. We were back in the malleable, green-tinted Fade.

“If you get tired of enduring your world, come back,” the desire demon said. “Same terms. No possession. We simply both get to escape our worlds for a time.”

I didn’t answer, but I thought about that later. Maybe he was playing me, but the demon sounded sincere. It occurred to me that, in a way, he may have been as trapped in his world as I was in mine. _Who knows — if we’re both still trapped years from now when I know more about how to control what happens in the Fade, maybe I’ll take him up on his offer._

I walked down a path I’d formed from anger and spite. Entities occasionally swirled around me, cajoling with promises of power or revenge. I told them all to fuck off. One that was entirely made of fire was particularly insistent. It seemed to think I’d want to listen to its growlings that my rage was good and should be encouraged; that it could help me burn the things I hated to the ground. I told it that was nothing but the sort of stupid fantasy I’d had years before and cast ice at it. It howled with (predictably) rage and attacked. I suppose I should have been terrified, but I was too annoyed and just wanted to leave. I poured all my energy from the emotional soup of nerves, anger, depression and sexual tension into ice spells, throwing in the odd force spell for good measure as they appeared to gouge bits out of the monster. Truthfully, it felt wonderful to be able to cut loose on something, even if it wasn’t technically real. It was throwing fire back at me, but nothing significant made it past my barriers. After a few minutes, the thing gave a dramatic shriek and imploded.

I’d had it with everyone wanting to control me, including bloody Fade demons and their transparent offers. I _was_ a little sorry I hadn’t gotten to use my club on anything after the Fade had been nice enough to conjure it for me, but not sorry enough to hang around looking for an opportunity. The exit appeared as a barred prison gate with a heavy lock that wasn’t engaged. I pushed it open, slammed it shut behind me with a satisfying _KLANG_ and—

_=#=_

—opened my eyes.

Every single person in that room was looking at me, and it was all I could do not to glance down at my crotch to ensure there was no evidence as to what had (nearly) gone on with the desire demon. Instead I kept my features carefully bland as I sat up and said, “So is that it?”

“Not so fast,” the senior Templar barked. She looked disappointed, and I sincerely hoped she was. “We have a few questions for you first.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you want to know?”

“We’ll ask the questions here,” the First Enchanter cut in flatly.

She gave him a dirty look but backed off. He stood and approached me. Someone hurried over with another chair for him, setting it so he could face me with an illusion of intimacy.

“I know this seems silly, son, but can you tell us your name?” I felt him cast some sort of subtle spell. I assumed it was either to ensure I was telling the truth or to prevent anything from answering for me.

“Kai Trevelyan,” I said. “My father is Bann Emil Trevelyan of Ostwick. My mother is Jasia Trevelyan and her family name is Leitner. Shall I continue with more of my family tree?”

I was being a prat, but he just smiled. “That’s fine, Kai. We just have to ensure you’re still you. Some demons are subtle enough they may still seem to be the mage they possessed when they come back.”

“Wouldn’t it’ve helped to explain a little more about all that before throwing us into the Fade to see who targets us?” I was cross and feeling the unpleasant after-effects of thwarted sexual desire along with utter, mortified conviction that they’d all seen I was aroused, which meant I’d lost what little manners I’d come in with.

“We can discuss methodology later. The important thing right now is you’ve successfully passed your Harrowing, Kai. You’re accepted as a full mage of the Ostwick Circle, with all the privileges accorded your rank. You’ll be able to move to your new quarters tonight. You can come to see me about the particulars once we dissolve this Harrowing. Knight-Commander Emery?”

She nodded to him and said in the same clipped tones that she’d used for everything, “I, Knight-Commander Emery, as ranking representative of the Templars, do confirm that apprentice Kai Trevelyan has successfully passed his Harrowing and been found to be free of demonic influence. We welcome him into the ranks of the Mages of the Ostwick Circle.”

I was smart enough to just say, “Thank you,” and leave it at that.

She gave a terse nod, gave another to the First Enchanter, turned and left the room accompanied by all but one of her Templars. That one, of course, had to stay to watch us in case someone needed some killing.

The First Enchanter gave me another sympathetic smile. Even that was nettling me, but I did know I was being unreasonable so I kept my mouth shut. “Take a few hours to yourself, son. When you’re ready, come to my office and we’ll see about getting you set up in your own quarters. You did well.”

I managed a weak smile, suddenly aware how utterly spent I was. “Thank you, First Enchanter. I might just sleep for a while.”

“You do that. But remember you’re a mage now. I’ll tell you what that means once you’ve gotten some rest. I’m proud of you, Kai.”

I know I was supposed to hate everything about that place, and I mostly did, but that made me feel remarkably good. I watched him and his retinue leave, then finally levered myself off the day bed and went back to my dormitory. I ignored everyone and slept dreamlessly for a few hours before gathering my few belongings and making the grand trek across the compound to the bigger building where I’d now reside as an official mage. I was proud of myself, but knowing that building was destined to be my home for life made the whole thing feel rather anticlimactic.

They could at least have given me a cake.

_***_

“Did you ever see the demon again?” Dorian asked. “It wasn’t Ira, was it?”

I laughed. “No, Ira’s one of a kind. I did see him again, though. I mean, I was in that damn place for another fourteen years. We came to an understanding.”

“Mutual distraction from your everyday lives?”

“Pretty much. His last offer was actually sincere. I found him about six years later. It wasn’t even just carnal. He really did show me things in the Fade.”

Dorian grinned. “And you never told Solas?”

“And rain on his parade? He probably would have let the Anchor eat me alive because I upstaged him. Although before we knew what he was, he just annoyed me with his _Fadier Than Thou_ attitude.”

He shook his head mournfully. “Really, amatus, you need to watch those fits of pique. I suppose if the Circle had found out about your little arrangement…”

“They probably would’ve killed me. The Chantry doesn’t like to hear things like ‘I’ve always gotten on well with desire demons’.”

“He never tried to possess you?”

“He tried the first time. I shut him down hard enough he got a little scared, I think. After that we’d just meet once in a while. I think he found me challenging.”

“Why challenging?”

I smiled. “Because the only thing I truly desired was something he could never give me and we both knew it.”

“Of course.” He knew exactly what that was.

“Since he couldn’t get me out of the Circle in reality, we ended up in a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“No romance? No lovelorn murmurings between the two of you? Given his abilities, no special requests that next time he look like King Alistair?”

I snort-laughed. “Alistair’s not my type; he always kept his original look. And no, no romantic feelings. Technically it was nothing but an enjoyably recurring dream I indulged in.”

“And you liked thumbing your nose at the Circle system while doing something inherently dangerous.”

“There wasn’t a lot of excitement.”

He stroked the patch of hair beneath his lower lip, looking thoughtful. “Kai…those snatches of conversation you remember…are you sure that’s what was said?”

“Reasonably. It may not be word for word any more, but I wrote them down after in case they meant something. I never could figure out what they were.”

He made a noise that was somewhere between agreement and…I wasn’t sure what. “I don’t know about the _phthisical_ fellow with the information problems, but that other conversation…”

“What about it?”

“Well, it just so happens that when I was around twelve I was expelled for duelling from the third circle they’d put me in, after which I was sent to Neromenian where I studied under Decimus Heruns, and when that didn’t work out it was off to Vyrantium. Even the crack about returning to the solar sounded exactly like my father.”

I ran it over in my mind again and came to the same conclusion. “That cannot be real. Can it?”

“Well…in that dream you had Mischief said things had been arranged so we’d meet.”

I frowned. “Yes, but it was a dream and Mischief lies. It’s a _spirit_ of mischief, after all.”

“But you said yourself parts of the dream felt true, and Mischief lies when it suits its fancy. I’m not saying it was a portent of anything, but it’s intriguing to think a degree of _slippage_ may have occurred.”

“I don’t like it. It makes me feel manipulated. I should have been beneath the notice of anything back then. It also smacks of destiny, and I refuse to believe that.”

“I don’t know where you’d lodge a complaint,” he said with a grin. “You may as well just decide it’s interesting. We can look into it together.”

“I don’t suppose I have much choice, do I?”

He slid down the couch to close the gap between us. “Well, thank you for telling me. I must say, it wasn’t what I expected.”

“It wasn’t what I expected either.”

“It does put the lie to your protestations that it was the Inquisition that gave you a taste for thrill-seeking. You’ve a pattern of pursuing things you’ve been told are dangerous.”

I gave him a sultry smile. “You mean like a Tevinter mage down south where he had no business being? I’d think you’d approve of that pattern.”

“I didn’t say I disapproved, though you have made some dubious decisions, you must admit.” 

I sighed. “I know. You asked me very nicely not to drink from the Well and I did.”

“That aside…” He leaned in closer and dropped his tone to something low and seductive, “do you still consider me dangerous?”

I pulled him into a kiss then replied, “Terribly.”

“Perhaps you’d care to continue your pursuit?”

“I’ve never stopped.”

_=#=_

A few days later, evening found us on the balcony overlooking the back garden where we often gravitated in good weather. I’d been absorbed in a task the Archon had charged me with executing, and any thought of our conversation about my Harrowing had fled my mind.

Dorian was drinking a glass of red wine, looking the picture of relaxation. The setting sun gave his skin a little extra tint of gold and added burnished highlights to his thick black hair, which he’d been growing out since shortly before we returned to Minrathous. 

I was drinking a beer and appreciating the view when a servant approached us. She was carrying a square white box secured with white twine. It looked about the right size to contain a human head. She said, “Dominus Kai? This came for you,” and set it on the round table next to me.

I thanked her and looked questioningly at Dorian, who was smiling. “Do you know something about this?”

“Perhaps you should open it,” he suggested.

I undid the twine and opened the box. “A cake?”

“I had to take a little artistic license.”

I studied it again. Someone skilled had decorated the top with a remarkably realistic illustration of a white sand beach with a cabana set in the centre. The cabana had an open porch on which a grey cat was curled up asleep. It was backed by a line of palm trees. On the beach, the word _Congratulations_ was spelled out. “This is…” I looked up to meet his eyes. “This is the oasis I told you about. From my Harrowing.”

“Oh, good, it was close enough for you to recognize.”

“But why?”

He gave me a sweet smile. “Because I agree. The least they could have done was give you a cake. Admittedly it’s a few years late, but I thought you earned it.”

I gave a small chuckle, feeling both touched and amused. “That’s— Thank you.” I embraced him, saying, “Coming from you, it means more anyway.”

“Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks,” he said, giving me a quick kiss before we broke the embrace.

“You lied to me, though.”

He squinted at me. “When did I lie?”

“Years ago. You told me you weren’t a nice man, yet you consistently do these lovely, considerate things. You are, in fact, one of the nicest men I’ve ever known.”

He smiled, then gave me a mock frown. “Yes, well, don’t you go bandying that about. If my peers ever discover such a thing, they’ll descend upon me like jackals.” 

“I won’t breathe a word,” I said solemnly.

“Thank you, amatus. Now enough about me — we must have a toast.” Dorian raised his glass. “I don’t know what the appropriate salute might be so — Happy Harrowing!”

**Author's Note:**

> The dialogue of the phthisical man is from H.P. Lovecraft's novella _The Case of Charles Dexter Ward_.
> 
> Feedback is welcomed - thank you for reading!


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